A Filthy Conscience

I am cursed and blessed with the ability to see both sides of the coin.

Certainly more of a curse these days especially when I'm faced with moral quandaries at work. After all, it's difficult trying to come up with new ways of garrotting a junior officer without spilling even a drop of blood. Having a tiny conscience tsking away in admonishment at the back of my head while I upbraid them makes it that much worse.

Paul : He should die for his sins.
Conscience : Don't you think he's suffered enough? Surely after the bloody disembowelment he just received, he's bound to remember the take-home message.
Paul : I doubt it. He doesn't look remorseful enough. Maybe I should twist the blade a bit more.
Conscience : No, I think you should... AIKS!
Paul : Take that, conscience!
.
Then obviously my evil side takes over and I squash my conscience into oblivion. It's hard to ignore the evil side when it's screaming banzai in trenchant tones while recklessly waving a katana sword ( in comparison I think my good side wears tweed, holds a cream puff and speaks in clipped, measured BBC-speak ).


Evil and the Teddy Bear!
Still each time I rant and rave rebuke and reprimand, I find myself absolutely drowning in remorse moments afterward. Since I can easily imagine ( there goes the fertile imagination again ) the house officer feeling beaten and broken desperately searching for the closest relief for their pain - which shockingly enough turns out to be that final six storey jump!

Then my evil samurai side comes to the rescue again and batters that ignoble thought to smithereens.

The same occurred to me today when I bumped into my friend Slinky Sonia at the mall this afternoon. For a seemingly conservative Indian girl, she's always been the wildest gal ever - courtesy of extremely doting indulgent parents. Still lately it seems they've drawn the line when it comes to her love life - especially since she's taken the momentous step of moving in with her long-time boyfriend.

Me, I'd have thought it astonishing - and commendable - that Sonia's actually making a commitment of any sort. This, from a girl who changes shoes with shocking ease. Pradas to Blahniks in three hours.

Then I thought of her mother.

Sonia : Mommy's simply impossible! Hardly speaks to Ram, imagine that! And here I thought she was happy I'd settled down with someone.
Paul : Poor Mamaji!
Sonia : Aren't you going to commiserate?
Paul : I think you gotta see it from her point of view. Ever heard about not buying the cow when the milk's for free?

God. Yes. I am starting to think like a parent. Papa Jahat as a friend would say.

Still, you can imagine a doting mother's consternation. Bad enough when the boyfriend was over there all the time, now he's moved in for real? Happily canoodling in a house that actually rightfully belongs to her parents? Spending all the time with the boyfriend and ignoring poor Mamaji sitting alone at home with her round chappatis?

I can readily imagine her mother offering desperate prayers to all the pantheon of gods in the Hindu mythology on a daily basis.

Of course if my child did something like that I wouldn't have thrown a hissy fit. It would be useless, I know - especially since teenagers tend to ignore irate parents. I'd have found a more subtle roundabout way of getting them to break up. My evil side has some uses after all.